Migration
by kamelion
Summary: SGA finds a natural threat. Those with an aversion to bugs should be warned. Thanks to Sheppardster for a late beta! All other mistakes are mine, and there are a few.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't that he didn't want to do it. It was just that he had more important things to work on, things that required his precious time and energy, things that did not involve sitting on a bench and watching seven little rug rats as they wrecked havoc on the poor, defenseless room. Odd toys littered the area, some looking scarier than any sane child had reason to own. Others looked more normal, if there were such a thing. A toy was a toy, which ultimately meant it was nothing more than a noise machine, and after an hour of hearing the same repetitive pounding noises, he'd had enough. Ten minutes of playing "keep away" from the youngest set didn't help his temper, because if they banged on that metal can _one more time _he was going to ram it up their collective skinny white asses and string them up as food for the wraith. He found himself spent and sulking in the corner, nursing a growing knot on his shin.

To say that Dr. Rodney McKay had no patience for kids was the understatement of the millennium. They talked too much. Asked too many questions, then asked questions about those questions and made his head spin faster than a frog in a blender. It wasn't their curiosity that got to him. It was the fact that, dammit, they should already know this stuff, and he therefore had no patience to explain to these kids what, for him, had been a simple concept at age eight. These were smart kids, sure. The way they outfoxed him and stole back their can to beat upon proved that. But educated?

Who the hell thought a school would be a good idea anyway?

It was in fact Teyla's idea. Get the kids together once a week, spend a few hours with a member of the Atlantean team, and learn tidbits about science, diplomacy, and literacy. Expand their horizons, since the gate was active and they were gradually being exposed to more and more outside influences. The exposure was unavoidable, even on the mainland. Sure the Athosians knew of other cultures. But their small universe was expanding in ways that kept Teyla in late night conferences with Elizabeth. Still, it was a poor excuse for dragging him on board. And the tall dark-haired kid, who was more intelligent than Rodney liked, had been giving him more grief than Colonel Sheppard could have dreamed of handing out. He had made a mental note after first seeing the glint in the child's eye not to have them introduced.

The problem was, this was turning into a longer schooling process than he cared for, because these kids hadn't left yet. He totally blamed Teyla and her bureaucracy.

Rodney sighed and made another attempt at contact. He stood and limped to the center of the room. "Okay, munchkins, you've had your fun. Now can I finally demonstrate?" He reached down and swiped the can from the oldest boy, keeping his shins from kicking distance. "Where's the other one?" It narrowly missed his head, and the kids laughed. "Oh, very funny." He picked it up, cautiously, and faced the rowdy group. "Now listen up. What I am about to demonstrate may seem impossible, but believe me, it's going to do a lot to protect my sanity. Now pay attention." He held up one can, and reached for a string from his pocket.

"What we have here," he muttered, searching his pockets, "is a failure to. . .failure t – crap I know I had some. . ." laughter erupted again as his young, dark-haired nemesis produced a long string from his sleeve.

"Ah, yes. Well. . .thank you." Rodney snatched it away, glared for a moment, then knotted the end. He passed the string through the bottom of the can and gave an experimental tug. "What we have here, is a failure to communicate. Therefore I've come up with a solution, which is to be expected."

"My dad says you're weird," nemesis boy chirped.

"Oh, which dad would that be, hm? The one with four rings in his nose or the one whose head looks like a disfigured armadillo?" Rodney looked up sharply, then realized he may have gone too far, because the kid did look a bit hurt. Damn him. He could solve this, he wasn't Rodney McKay for nothing.

He thrust a can into the kid's hand. "Here. You hold this." Rodney secured the string to the bottom of the other can and backed away, pulling the string taut. He raised the can to his mouth, and motioned with his finger. "Put that one to your ear." He demonstrated.

The boy did as he was told, and Rodney, very clearly, said "Hello?" through the makeshift wire.

The boy's eyes widened. Rodney waved his hand encouragingly and put the can to his ear.

Hesitantly, the boy brought the can to his lips. "HELLO?"

"CHRIST!" Rodney yanked the can away just as the door behind him opened. "Teyla! Oh thank god."

"Are you making any progress, Rodney?" She smiled at the kids, who were suddenly the poster children for model behavior.

"Oh, loads." A false smile pasted itself to his lips. "Can't wait to do this again."

"Would tomorrow at the same time be convenient?"

His heart actually stopped. "No! I mean, not really, I have a uh. . .a meeting. . .thing. . .that I have to uh. . .no, no tomorrow isn't good, I'm sorry. Maybe Carson. Or Radek, you know he loves kids. How long are they here for, anyway?"

"Three days until their settlement is reinstated. Then they return to the mainland."

"That's politics for you. Don't know why we got involved in the first place." Rodney sighed as he watched the kids run in circles, dragging the can like a dog on a leash. It clanged noisily along the floor, and that was the last straw. "I have to go now."

"Of course. I appreciate your help, I know they can be a bit trying at times."

"Don't be silly. I'm Mr. Helpful. Nothing but help, all day, all the time." He forced one more smile for her benefit and turned abruptly. He nearly made it to the door before the can hit him on the back of the head.

He merely stopped, didn't turn, and walked out.

The lab was sane compared to the din he'd just left. Rodney sighed gratefully and sat on his stool, rubbing his pained leg and pulling his papers to him. He flipped through them absently. Four projects, one of which he was falling desperately behind on, sat before him, each one obstinately demanding his attention. He couldn't concentrate. Damn kids. Maybe it was his blood sugar, he did have to exert himself more than was humanly necessary. A quick snack, then back to work.

He stood and heard a sickening crunch underneath his boot, like stepping on a hundred egg shells at once. His eyes closed, and he swallowed carefully before taking the time to look down at what would certainly be a gruesome sight. There was a mashed mess the size of a small brick on the floor, oozing from the side of his boot. "Aw. . .disgusting!" His appetite gone and balancing on one foot, he cast his eyes about for something to clean the mess with. He spied his colleague as he entered, his expression hidden as he bent over his datapad. "Radek! Come here a minute, will you?"

"What is it, Rod. . .what the devil is that?" The datapad dropped to his side, forgotten.

Rodney was balancing on one foot. It hadn't occurred to him to brace himself on the desk. "A very big, very disgusting, very dead bug." His face was screwed tight in distaste. "I don't suppose you've got something in here to clean this up with?"

"What did you do?"

Rodney rolled his eyes, and that was when he discovered holding on to the desk was in fact a good idea. "I would think the situation was obvious!"

Radek remembered his pad and set it down, his eyes glued to the mess on Rodney's boot. "How could you not see that? It looks the size of a cat!" He knelt down, adjusting his glasses as he studied the goo.

"Hardly, now would you please get something to clean this off with? Come on, my leg's cramping."

"Right, right." Radek hurried off and returned with a workman's towel.

Rodney winced as he cleaned his boot the best he could. The bowels strung from his boot to the towel as he pulled it away. "Aw . . .this is disgusting, this is . . .I'd almost rather be with the kids . . ." The remnants of the creature was stuck to the floor, and there was no way in hell he was cleaning that up. His boot was bad enough. He keyed his radio. "Hey, Burns?"

There was a faint hiss, and a sharp voice. "Yeah?"

"You still need an alien specimen?"

"I need loads of them, watcha got?"

Rodney raised the towel and watched the blue goo drip from it. "Does it have to be in one piece?"

There was a hesitation. "Ideally. You got one?"

"I have . . . some of one."

"I'll send Robert up with a bag."

"Thanks." Rodney grimaced and flung the towel down. "There. No harm, no foul."

"And no dirty hands," Radek responded with a huff. He snorted as Rodney tried to pawn the towel off on him for disposal, and returned to his own work station.

"Yeah, well, I'm going to get something to eat now, believe it or not. See what you can do about these while I'm gone." He snatched up a handful of random papers and tossed them onto Radek's desk, and ducked as they flew into the air behind him.

No appreciation.

Radek watched as Rodney limped around the corner, apparently all too aware of what had been on his boot, and called it vindication.


	2. Chapter 2

"So we don't know what these things are?" Elizabeth was backed as far into the corner of her office as she could get. If her back were wedged-shaped, it would be a comfortable fit into the corner, but as it was she had to make do with pressing her lithe form into a nook not suited for it. The bug on her desk was very large, and very intent on staring her down. Its antennae waved at her; each thick, black line drawing a circumference of the room. Long crisp wings were folded against its back. It looked for all the world like one huge cockroach. The way it had skittered onto her desk showed that she would never make it to the door without it attaching itself to her leg in a blink of an eye.

"That would be a bug," Sheppard remarked casually from her door. He was doing his best to hide his own terror. He hated bugs. Hated them. He'd heard her shriek from the hall and blazed a trail to her office through the people that were trying to get there first. The sight in her office had three going for help, running to the biology labs below. Four others stood back and grimaced, while two ran off to confront their own fears. Sheppard was torn between running to the labs or racing off to relieve himself, but he couldn't just leave the poor woman standing there.

Elizabeth was trying her hardest not to panic. "I don't usually have a problem with bugs," she said as calmly as she could, "but they're not usually the size of small domesticated animals."

"I'd say this would qualify as a large domesticated animal," Sheppard said, wincing at the creature. About the size of a, well, it was hard to say exactly, being that the bug was relatively flat. A large terrier, perhaps? The wings suddenly flared out in a black film, and he increased his thought to "Mastiff. Definitely a mastiff."

"John?" She couldn't press back any farther.

"Right." He gestured for the others behind him to step back. "They'll just have to get a used sample downstairs." He whipped out his hand gun and fired.

The shriek pierced his ears, and he suddenly found himself on the floor, terrified cries behind him and a sharp shell above him, hard mandibles pressed to either side of his head as the insect grew before his eyes. The stench was organic, the crackling sounds it emitted were disturbing, and its weight increasing. His breath left him, he felt saw-like legs rub against him, saw the insect turn its head and regard him. A small explosion rocked the air and knocked the weight off, covering him in greyish-blue goo. That smell was worse, and it was all Sheppard could do not to roll over and vomit.

Elizabeth was instantly at his side, helping him up while trying to avoid the stench and guts. "John? Are you all right?" She touched him and pulled back at the same time.

"Been better." He coughed and sat up, eyeing the remains with disgust. "Please tell me that thing has a name, that it isn't toxic, and that there's only one."

"Actually," Biology Assistant Roger Roys pushed forward, "there's been several reports of them around the city. This is the largest specimen we've seen thus far." His small eyes beamed with excitement as he dipped towards the goo, holding a small vial. "What a beaut!"

"Glad to make your day." Sheppard stood with Elizabeth's help. "I guess we need to run a few scans, see if we're being invaded or something."

"Colonel Sheppard!" The voice over his radio was high-pitched, loud, and familiar. "I need you in the commissary with several of those big guns!" John registered the tone, and added panicked and sickened to the list.

He glanced down at the congealed mess drying on his shirt. "Lemme guess. Bugs?"

"About six of them. They're . . . really big."

"On my way."

The commissary was emptied of people, understandably. Rodney was pacing outside, wringing his hands, when Sheppard and his armada of men arrived. "It's about time." He grabbed Sheppard's arms, ready to jerk him into the room, then winced and sniffed while quickly backing away. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Let's just say their insides are less pleasant than their outsides."

"That would stand to reason. Yeah, just stand over there, okay? Thank you." He worried at his fingers, provoking a comment.

"You okay?"

"You ever see those shows where the happily dining couple finds a bug in their salad?"

"Yeah. . ."

"My salad arrived on the back of one."

"Not much for fast food delivery, huh?"

"Not in this case, no."

John reached for the P90 that Ronon handed to him. "You said six?"

"Yes."

"Big?"

"If you consider a volkswagen a big car, then yes. If you consider it a small car, then bigg-ish."

Sheppard frowned and peeked inside. "Volkswagens are pretty big, I mean, they're chunky and all."

"Oh please, don't say 'chunky'." Rodney paled and swallowed heavily.

Sheppard nodded to the men behind him, cued Ronon, and opened the door. What ensued was a lot of screeching, greyish-blue goo, and swearing. Rodney wisely stayed in the corridor.

When Sheppard exited, he looked the worse for wear. Ronon didn't have a splash on him. Rodney merely covered his nose and mouth and stepped aside. "Bio," Sheppard cued, "we have a few more for you."

The biology lab looked like any other lab in Atlantis, filled with computers and screens and too many people. John and Rodney pushed through the excited masses to find Dr. Raymond Burns sitting in a stool, a sample and a microscope to his right, and a large platter of goo to his left.

"Can't ever be a live sample, can it?" Burns said without looking up. He sighed and stuck his gloved finger into the goo.

"I don't know, perhaps you'd like to go roam the halls and find one," Rodney muttered, and turned as his shoulder was bumped. "Hello, standing here! Can't you see behind those rims?" The spectacled scientist gave Rodney a rude once over and kept walking.

"I may have to!" Burns turned an annoyed glare toward Sheppard. "How can I do my job if I can't get what I request?" He turned and glared at them, raising his index finger. "Simple request. Just one. Bring-in-a-live-sample."

"Where's Dr. Lind?" Rodney groused. "He's easier to deal with."

Burns pointed to his face. "See this? This represents a lack of humor."

"No, that represents a lack of brain cells."

"Live Sample," he enunciated, and rolled his chair to the microscope. "Isn't there some kind of stun gun in that insane arsenal you carry?"

"Tazers," Rodney said, snapping his fingers and looking at John. "That's it."

But John winced. "If you want a live sample that bad, I suppose we could try, but where are you planning on keeping it once we capture it?"

"We have a containment area already set up," Burns said, re-engrossed in his study. "Roger converted a crate."

John looked dubious. "Will it hold it?"

"One way to find out." He sent a pointed look to Sheppard, who had a bad feeling he was about to go on a bug search. "Oh, and while you're down here," Burns turned to McKay, "You see the conditions were are working under here, yes?"

"And?"

"I put in a requisition for one of the larger labs several weeks ago and have had no response. I assume you didn't show this to Dr Weir?"

Rodney bristled and rolled his shoulders back. "Oh, I don't know, I've kind of been busy what with the WRAITH threat and all!"

Burns met Rodney's inflamed gaze with one equally as tense. "I suggest, Dr. McKay, if you want an accurate study of these insects, you get us adequate space. Do I make myself clear?"

Burns was a fairly likable person, simply because he wasn't intimidated by anyone, especially not Dr. Rodney McKay. Rodney pulled himself up straight, clasping his hands importantly behind his back. Both glares fought for domination, and both won. "Fine," Rodney said. "But I want a report by the end of the day."

"You'll have one in an hour's time, if you leave now."

"Done."

"Live specimen, please Colonel."

Sheppard opened his mouth and turned to Rodney, but his supposed friend just smiled and clapped his shoulder. "Have fun."

"Thanks." The sarcasm was followed by a shake of the head, and the sound of ill muttering floating down the hall behind him. It wasn't until he rounded the corner that he heard the distant screams, and Beckett's voice over the comm.

The infirmary was swarmed.


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth was liking this less and less, not that she cared much for it in the first place. The sounds of gunfire pinpointed her destination, and she turned the corner only to run smack into Rodney's broad frame. Her face was inches from his, and seeing his vivid eyes so up close took her by surprise. She hurriedly stepped back as Rodney muttered an apology, then gripped her arm and pushed her around the corner. "Bugs," he said simply, "we can't even get in there."

Elizabeth tried to peek around. "Dr. Beckett? His staff?"

Held her back. "Pinned down, I guess. No one's gone in or out." His face was drawn with worry, and he jerked back at Sheppard's yell.

The colonel flew around the corner and right into them. His left arm flung out to press them back against the wall, his right hand firing his weapon at the insects that suddenly clicked into view. Rodney pulled Elizabeth to him, and she let him, trying to melt away from the sight before her as five more large creatures legged their way across the floor, waving their mandibles and rising on their hind legs threateningly. A shriek pierced the air, and they exploded as gunfire rang out.

Elizabeth had her face buried in Rodney's shirt, and she felt both his arms around her as he turned her away from the sight. His breathing was loud in her ear as he crouched over her. The sounds stopped, and they slowly unfolded themselves.

"Well. Cleanup on aisle nine," Rodney said weakly.

Sheppard grabbed Elizabeth by the arm, looking over the both of them. "You two okay?" He was already backing away, toward the infirmary door. Elizabeth merely nodded, pushing past him and rushing inside.

She promptly ran back out, and vomited.

Rodney wasted no time pushing past and into the infirmary. Nurses and patients were on the floor, covered in blood, some holding their heads and crying. He stopped in the middle of the room, fighting down his acute nausea. A hand found his shoulder, and he spun, catching Carson Beckett as he fell to the floor. "Carson! Carson?"

"Rodney." The poor man looked like he was about to pass out from shock.

Rodney held him, scanning the room desperately for someone who wasn't already tending to wounded. "Okay. Hang on, what hurts? Are you okay?" He carefully lay the doctor on his back, noticing blood on his chest. Cursing, he ripped open his friend's shirt and shuffled to the nearest cart for gauze. "What the hell?"

"No . . .it was from that." He pointed weakly to a glass case, or what remained of one. "I was beside it when it shattered."

"Crap." Rodney instantly stopped applying pressure and leaned in, looking for fragments of glass embedded in the man's chest. "Crap, crap, crap. I'm not a fucking nurse."

"Rodney, it's okay." Carson gripped his arm, his quick breathing belying his reassurance.

"I don't think so." Rodney stood right as Elizabeth was able to re-enter. He waved her over, and she bent over the shocked man. Rodney stepped back as motherly concern pushed him aside, and backed into John.

"He okay?" John was watching over Rodney's shoulder.

"Better if we get out of the way, I bet."

"Colonel," a soldier Rodney hadn't seen before rushed in, took a startled glance around, and swallowed. "We've got more reports coming in . . ."

"Got it. McKay?"

"Go. I want to make sure Carson's okay."

John nodded and signaled to his men. Five followed him out into the corridor.

Soldiers were sent out in force to locate any and all bugs. Special barriers were rigged, sealing off sections of the city and acting as a large containment field. The gateroom was protected by such a field, as well as a makeshift infirmary. Teams ventured out in shifts, and to Burns' dismay, shot down any bug within sight.

His own sample was inconclusive. He had indeed put a report on McKay's desk, one hour later, that had said as much. The insect creatures were very much like a cockroach. They had hard shells and a not-so-soft underbelly. They had mandibles, and no visible eyes. Their legs looked like large saws, and the largest specimens weighed over two hundred pounds. Fortunately, only three of that particular variety had been found. Some were in the twenty to thirty pound range, with most averaging twelve.

It was unnerving, to say the least. Almost as unnerving as the unsatisfied stares that cornered him from the large table where Dr. Weir and various science teams sat.

Burns concluded his presentation and looked at the faces around him. They mirrored his disgust. "So," he said, "I can't really say these creature have any use, but to be honest I just can't see killing all of them."

"Even after what happened in the infirmary?" Weir asked.

"Even then."

"I bet you set spiders free outside, don't you?" Rodney sneered, clicking his pen annoyingly.

"There are no spiders on Atlantis, Dr. McKay."

"Still, I bet you do it."

Burns merely raised his brows. "Maybe."

"Great. People, meet Doctor Doolittle of the Pegasus Galaxy. Why don't you try talking just to them and see what they want?" Rodney snorted and turned away.

"That's enough, gentlemen," Elizabeth said. She turned to Sheppard. "What's the current count?"

"Seventy-five shot," he responded. "More around each corner."

"Where are they coming from?" Weir asked the assembled group in general.

Rodney leaned forward, fingering his papers. The fact that he bothered to bring any was testament to his own distraction; he rarely used notes. "Well, we can rule out the water system. They'd clog the pumps, for one, and for two there is no way possible they can get into the filtration system without causing significant damage, which hasn't been detected. Best I can figure at this point, somehow we brought the eggs on board, and they're hatching."

Elizabeth winced. "So ultimately we have no idea how many we are dealing with."

"Not really, no." He looked at Burns.

"I need a pod, or egg, or whatever these things hatch from. I can analyze it and determine the gestation cycle and go from there," he said.

"So, we need to hunt for a sample." Elizabeth looked at John, hating to ask him.

He sighed heavily. "Got it."


	4. Chapter 4

"I still don't understand why I'm here with you." Rodney was pressed to the wall, his hands stretched before him and behind him, guiding him along.

"Because I need a hand, and at the moment we're stretched to the limit," John muttered, his gun held tense and ready. "Besides, you really want to go back to your lab right now?"

"Why, what's wrong with the lab?"

"As I recall, that was their first hiding place."

"Right. Forget I asked."

John swivelled his gun to shine the mounted light onto the walls. "So, any ideas?"

"Well, if I suggest setting off a bomb, you'll get the wrong idea and blow up the entire city or go off and do some stupid, self-sacrificing crap, so I just as soon keep my ideas to myself." He spun around at a shadow, saw nothing, and swallowed.

"Rodney, relax. We should hear these things coming before they ever get here. Besides, I think I can safely say I have a reason to hate bugs more than you do."

"I highly doubt that."

"Whatever. Come on." He took only three steps more when a horrible shriek filled the air, and he was knocked forwards.

He rolled, his gun ready, and saw Rodney on the ground, with one of the two-hundred-pound bugs towering over him. The shriek had been his. "Shit! Get it off!" Rodney tried to protect himself by throwing his arms over his face as it reared then fell as gunshots pummeled the exoskeleton. Rodney shrieked once more, trying to back away, but the giant insect collapsed on top of him, trapping him half underneath. He lay there for a moment, winded.

"Rodney!" Sheppard was firing down the hall, taking out the four bugs at bend in the corridor.

It took Rodney a moment to realize his predicament, and when he did, panic followed. "Colonel! Get this thing off . . ." he stopped as he caught sight of the crawling ceiling above them. "Oh my god . . ."

Sheppard looked up as well. "Holy . . ."

"Get it off! Hurry!" Rodney's struggled renewed with frantic intensity. "Now!"

"Working on it!" John fell to Rodney's side, trying to shove at the bug without touching it. Desperation took hold, and he ignored the gore and pushed with everything he had.

"Colonel!"

"Shut up, will ya, they'll . . ."

And they started to drip from the ceiling.

There were hundreds of them. Small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, small enough to crawl up the leg of his pants and get into the sleeves of his shirt. Small, but lethal.

The first bite stung. The second had him on his knees.

"Colonel!"

The voice was fading.

"COLONEL!"

He woke to dim lights. Not in the infirmary, then, no, of course not. It had been sealed off, the patients evacuated to a room near the control center. And that's where he was.

Sheppard blinked and looked around him. He was hooked to an IV, and more machines than he cared to count. His head throbbed, and he felt dry.

Rodney looked up in response to his grunt, and instantly leaned over his bed. "Colonel! You okay?"

"Wh-hpn'd?"

"You got bit." Ronon stepped forward, his thumbs tucked in the waistband of his pants.

"Elaborate as always," Rodney muttered.

Sheppard winced. He could feel the bite, rising in a hard bump above his skin. He felt so tired, and fuzzy. "Poison?"

"Not so much," Rodney said. "I mean, toxic, but not deadly. Not unless you were bitten quite a lot, which you weren't, fortunately." He sat back in his chair gingerly.

John frowned, remembering Rodney's own frightening plight. He caught the man's eyes with his own, trying to read him while making sure his vocal chords were still functional. "What about you? You okay?" he croaked.

"A few cracked ribs, nothing too serious. I mean, you know, considering . . ." He looked very ill at ease, not just tired or concerned.

Sheppard frowned. "How long?"

"Uh, you were out for several hours. Lang and his men found us, and . . .Mr Eloquence here. They, well, they helped me, and you . . ." he clasped his hands between his knees and turned his head away slightly, finding a spot on the floor to stare at. Ronon gave Sheppard a nod and left the two men.

Not a good sign. "Rodney?"

He swallowed and raised his chin, seeing that Ronon had gone, and still not meeting John's eyes. "I, uh . . . I mean, just there were so many, you know? I was pinned under that thing so it wasn't, I mean . . .they were all over you, just crawling," he shivered and looked sick," but they didn't come near me, I guess because Mama Bug was dead. But . . . I laid there, and . . ." he shook his head, and sad eyes met John's. "Just felt helpless, you know? Well, that and I couldn't breathe, and the stench . . ."

"But we're fine now."

"Better, yes. Fine is debatable."

There was more. Rodney's eyes were dark, his knees bouncing lightly against the hands clenched tightly between them. "Something else happened."

He could tell that Rodney was getting to the part he didn't want to discuss. He studied the floor. "I- I told them to get you first, because they were . . .you know. And they got you out, but more bugs started falling from the ceiling. I heard a scream, and – and one had crawled into this guy's mouth, think his name is Woodman. He – no one could get to him in time. The soldier beside him went down, completely covered with them. They found his body an hour ago. His flesh was . . . mostly gone from his face, and there were large open sores all over his body."

"They ate at him?" Sheppard's voice was small.

"Yeah. Or something."

Sheppard swallowed, and regretted it. "Feels like my throat is stuck together."

"Oh. Here." Rodney quickly reached over and picked up a small cup of water with a straw. "Carson says to take it slow. We currently have adequate water supply, but no way to get any ice chips, which he'd rather you have."

"How many are there now?"

"Bugs? Who knows. We still haven't found any eggs, but at least with the size of those smaller bugs, we've got a better idea what size egg to look for."

"Unless they're like spiders and come from a sac." His voice had improved to the point where he could utter a sentence without croaking. It was a start.

"A sac. Always comes back to spiders, doesn't it?" Rodney frowned and tapped his radio. "Lipton? You there with Big Bertha?"

A moment's hesitation, then, "Yes, Rodney?"

"Any way you can run the cameras to search the city for a large egg sac?"

"Easily done."

"Focus your attention on the main power conduits first," he said, and looked at Sheppard. "The larger bugs seem to either be where we use a lot of power, or head towards it," he said to him.

"Infirmary, the mess, the labs. Why didn't they just go to the gateroom?"

Rodney gave a half-hearted shrug. "Guess they just haven't made it that far."

"Do they feed off energy?"

"Doubt it. Remember Woodman?"

"Right."

Rodney nodded and started to say something when an urgent call came through on his radio. He tapped it, then gave Sheppard a puzzled look. "It's Elizabeth. She wants me to go look off a balcony." He stood and started to the hall.

John was smiling. For a moment he'd thought Rodney had said 'take a jump off a balcony'. "Take someone with you who knows how to fire a gun," he called to Rodney's retreating back.

Rodney turned with a not-so-patient sigh. "I can fire a gun, thank you." He pointed to a large soldier nearby. "You! Come with me."

John smirked. "Thought you said you could fire a gun?"

Rodney tossed a crooked grin over his shoulder. "His is bigger."

The nearest balcony was two doors down and around the corner from the makeshift infirmary. Rodney walked out and stared, slowly keying his radio. The view below captured him unwillingly. His voice was weak. "Elizabeth?"

"You see it too, then?" Her voice was weak as well.

He did see it. Boy did he ever.

In the distance, the sea was black, and crawling.


	5. Chapter 5

Carson walked the halls carefully, not because of his injuries, but as a result of timidity. He hated bugs. His experience with them was enough to force him to hide in his office for nearly an hour while he regained his composure.

Seven had died from internal injuries. Five others were bunked up in the makeshift infirmary that hadn't been blown to hell by gunfire. It was a miracle that so much equipment survived, he was certain the soldiers didn't intend to destroy the very means of keeping them on their feet. On the other hand, it was such a mess. The bugs moved about with an alarming speed, and it had turned into merely firing at something black and moving. Some very valuable equipment was sacrificed to save the life of the patients. Unfortunately two of the patients had been attached to them at the time, which caused a scare.

It was after they had settled that he holed himself up.

A man need a break. When they first arrived, it was pure science and the odd flu. Now it was genetic therapy and manipulation, experimentation of a nature he never considered, on a scale he wouldn't have dreamt of. His mum would have fixed him a nice mug of tea. He ended up wandering the halls, wondering where Colonel Sheppard and his men were.

Sheppard had been released an hour earlier. He was needed; there was no reason to keep him locked away in the infirmary. Carson had given him an antibiotic, and shoo'ed him away. The bite was red and sore, but no longer infected. The effects had worn off, and thirty minutes after waking he had been itching to leave.

Rodney had retreated to the biology labs. Carson considered joining him for a moment before returning to his work, but his eye caught sight of a large figure propped against one of the huge stained glass windows that decorated the city. Ronon.

Carson approached him cautiously. "Ronon? You okay, lad?"

It might have seemed odd, calling such a large, imposing figure a lad, but Ronon visibly warmed up to it. He rolled his body to leaned back against the wall, folding his arms in front of him. "Are you?" he asked deeply.

"Aye, I'm right as rain, thanks. Now don't avoid the question."

Ronon smiled wryly and turned. "I'm fine."

Carson joined him, and took in the view for the first time. "Holy Hannah."

"Lot of them."

"And they're all headed here?"

"Seems that way."

"Are we going to evacuate?" Carson's voice was rising as he watched the black mass bob on the waves.

"Dunno. Nothing's been said."

Carson faced him. "What do you think we should do?"

Ronon fixed his green-eyed gaze on the doctor. No one usually asked his opinion in this manner. They listened to him, sure, and he offered his point of view, but this was a serious question. His head cocked as he thought. "We can't fight this without damaging the city. So it depends on how bad it gets. Maybe they'll pass us."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No."

The men watched in silence as the threat floated closer. But Carson found, in his irritation, that he couldn't stomach the stillness of the larger man. So he backed away, and silently continued down the hall.

"Rodney, come on!"

Rodney was dragging his feet. He was embarrassed, and he hated the feeling. "I didn't ask for a kiddie escort, alright? Believe it or not, I can make it to the bio lab all by myself!"

"And considering what's going on, I think you need an escort! Now humor me!" John shifted his weapon.

"It's bugs, Colonel. Just bugs. And you're scarily overprotective."

"And you're not the least bit unnerved by them."

"Unnerved, no. Scared shitless, definitely. Hence the need to get to the biolab and figure out what's going on, so why the hell are we going this way?"

John's lips tightened as he stopped, glancing at the ceiling for support in _not_ killing the man beside him, and whipped out his life signs detector. "Here."

Rodney snatched the gameboy-looking device from him. He studied it for a minute, then handed it back. "I see."

"So we go in the back door."

"I never realized there were so many already here . . ."

"Gives infestation a new meaning." John suddenly held up his hand.

"What?"

"Shhh!" He angled his head toward the end of the hall. "Come on."

"I didn't hear . . ."

"Now, Rodney!" John was already running, and Rodney scrambled to keep up. It wasn't long before a body stopped them.

"Crap," John muttered, carefully flipping the figure onto it's back. He sighed heavily. "Reeves. Dammit!"

"Is – is he . . ."

"Yeah."

"Because of . . ."

"Uh-huh."

"I see."

"Would you stop saying that? It's like your crisis mantra."

"Well, what would you have me say? 'Alas poor Reeves, I knew him not'?"

"That's cold, McKay."

"I'm not known for my warmth and comfort, thank you very much!"

John stood slowly, his eyes pinning Rodney's like darts. "He's dead, McKay. Show a little respect!"

"Hey, I have nothing but respect for the dead, okay? So don't start . . .wait . . .wait, wait, wait . ."

He was sure he saw something move, a flicker of an eye that showed the man wasn't dead.

Rodney fell to his knees and leaned in closely, placing a hand on the soldier's chest.

The eyelid fluttered, bulged. A small bug scurried from beneath it.

Rodney yelled and scrambled backwards, feeling his jacket tug and pull as John quickly grabbed him and slid him across the floor, away from the body. "What is that? _What the hell is that_?"

"Come _on_ . . ."

"They're inside him!"

"Shut up and MOVE!" John pulled Rodney to his feet as the insects started to flood from every opening in the man's body. His skin rippled and split into long, red tears, his eyes bulged. The mouth opened in a silent, dead scream, and a river of scratchy blackness crawled out.

They moved. Fast.

The corridor came to a t-junction, then to a door leading into the next hallway. John shoved Rodney though the door, mentally closing it as the bugs ran towards them. It moved slowly, and John wondered why the hell the Atlanteans didn't design doors that slammed shut. Several bugs were squashed in the frame, blue goo puddling below them, but not before others made it through."GO! Go, go, go!" He pushed the scientist down the hall.

"NO, oh God, waitwaitwait . . ." Rodney had stopped, he was grabbing the back of his neck. "Oh god . . ."

"Rodney!"

"Get it off! Get it the fuck off!" He thrashed, feeling the crawl but unable to find the culprit. His hands reached behind him, then to his ears and eyes, trying to keep the bug from crawling inside of him.

John tore off Rodney's jacket and shirt, and flung them both down the hall towards the oncoming mass. Rodney backed away, his hands desperately searching his skin. John grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall and into a transporter.

Once inside they stopped. Rodney slowly sank to the floor and curled around himself, his eyes wide. John just watched him, unable to offer his friend any support, feeling the shock himself. The doors opened just as his ass hit the floor, and neither man moved, except to look up into the astonished face of Carson Beckett.

He blinked once, and asked in his typical bedside manner, "What the bloody hell happened to you?"


	6. Chapter 6

Elizabeth leaned over the console, her grey eyes pinning the anxious blue ones that stared back. "You're saying there's no way to stop them?"

"I'm saying people are talking about evacuating, and it sounds like a very good idea right now!" Rodney had his arms crossed and looked like he was ready to either swim to the mainland, or ride the back of a bug to get there.

"We don't have that kind of time!" John insisted.

"Fine! You'd rather be an incubator?"

John stared. "What are you talking about?"

Rodney sighed, and gestured to Dr. Lind, who nodded and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "These insects aren't just migrating," Lind said in a deep voice that belonged on stage, "they've found a way to propagate." He hesitated, until he felt every eye on him. "They're nesting."

"In us?"

"Correct."

"Hence, 'incubator'," Rodney said snidely. "Any more questions? Good. Then let's get the hell outta here."

"Where to?" John asked. "The mainland?"

"Why not?" Rodney asked.

"I suppose it never occurred to you that these bugs might be there, too?"

Teyla suddenly looked nervous. "The people there would have informed us, surely."

"Not if they're dead," Rodney grumbled, and raised a mutter amongst the group.

"No," Dr. Lind broke in firmly over the voices, "I believe this is in fact a migration. They are headed to the mainland, yes, but will they cause harm? For all we know this is a natural part of their cycle."

"Eating our guts and having little baby bugs. Impressive. NOT." Rodney saw Radek standing in the door, and said before Elizabeth could jump in, "Not now, Radek. I'll look at the readings in a minute."

The Czech frowned from the doorway. "This isn't about the readings . . ."

"What about those thousands of years when there was nothing here?" Rodney cut in. "What did they do then?"

Lind shrugged, and removed his glasses. "I don't know. I haven't had time to study this, as you well know. Everything at the moment is speculation."

"Well let's speculate on land, preferably bug free, huh?" He caught Elizabeth's eye and sighed, irritably acknowledging the new arrival. "Yes, Radek, what?"

"Dr. Lind is correct." He shuffled into the room sideways with uncertain energy. "They are migrating."

"Thank you, Dr. Know It All. We gathered that. But from where to where?"

Radek continued. "It says in the Ancient database that the migration occurs every year. These creatures are actually very highly intelligent. They travel over the water to an island west of here, to propagate. Then they return. That is the sum of it."

"Yes, yes, and the not so sum of it?" Rodney asked pointedly.

Radek made himself comfortable in his chair and decided to address Elizabeth. "This island they come from is largely uninhabited and relatively small. There are a few creatures there, but nothing more intelligent than, say, a dog."

"Dogs are perfectly intelligent," Elizabeth argued lightly.

"Yes, but I believe these creatures to be even more so. Now. They would leave the island and swim a thousand miles to this location," he plugged his laptop into the mainframe as he spoke. A button was tapped, and a grid lit up the screen on the wall behind them, highlighted in yellow. "This is referred to in the Ancient texts as 'Al Shloha', or as far as I can tell, 'the God's grave'. It is believed to be where the large whales that swim beneath us go to die. They beach themselves when their time has come, thus providing a perfect nesting ground for a species that requires an incubation period.

"So these bugs would swim thousands of miles and lay their eggs inside the whales?" Elizabeth clarified.

"And the young would ride on the backs of the largest."

"Yeah, what about that, the size difference?" John asked.

Radek shrugged and looked at Dr. Lind. "Not sure. It may serve a place in their society where everyone has a role, like ants or bees. It would take further study."

"So," Rodney rose and pointed at the grid, "if they are migrating to this island here," he pointed again, "from here, then why are they here," he pointed to Atlantis, "when we are so obviously out of the way?"

"That's the problem. Lt. Groundsdale did an aerial sweep. There is no longer an island for the whales to go to, therefore no nesting ground."

Elizabeth frowned. "No nesting ground. What happened?"

Radek removed his glasses with a sigh. "I am not certain, but I believe it happened when the city rose. The massive displacement of water must have caused a tsunami of incredible proportions. It submerged the island." He shook his head sadly. "Our arrival has inadvertently disrupted a working ecosystem. They are just trying to find a way to survive."

"There's no place for the whales to go," Elizabeth said quietly. She pushed away from the table and walked to the large window, looking out over the water, what was left of it. "How long do we have?"

"Until that swarm gets here? Two hours maybe."

"And after that?"

"They head to the mainland."

"Wait, they can't!" Rodney exclaimed. His outburst startled those around him, and he met their raised eyebrows with cynicism. "What? Those kids may be annoying but they don't deserve to be turned into happy meals."

"Then I suggest we find a solution, and fast," Weir said.

"What are you going to do?" Ronon walked beside Rodney, dwarfing him. His patented response toward the increasingly black ocean was "this isn't good," and nothing else. But he had attached himself to the scientist as if his imposing presence would press the physicist to a solution.

"I don't know, you got a super-sized can of Raid?"

"Would it work?"

Rodney stopped and sneered. "Doubtful." He popped open a panel and examined the interior before replacing it.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm thinking! Not an easy task with you around - look, why don't you go play Chewie to Han Solo or something? I'm sure Sheppard could find something useful for you to do."

"I doubt it."

"No defense plan? No heavy artillery? No guts, no glory?" Rodney shook his head. "Huh."

"I think he's planning an evacuation."

"First smart thing the guy's done since we got here." He entered his lab and walked straight to his laptop.

Ronon leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. He could see the tension in McKay's back, the muscles straining against a problem he wasn't sure he could fix. "I heard they want a place to have their babies."

The head lifted. "Yes," Rodney said without turning, "though it sounds almost obscene when you say it."

"Then find a place for them."

Rodney swivelled in his chair and opened his mouth to spout out a few choice words, and stopped at the serious expression. It caught him off guard enough for him to ask, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"That's all they want. They're not here to kill us."

"You didn't see. . ."

"They need a whale."

"Atlantis isn't a whale!"

"Exactly."

Rodney stared for a moment, then spun back to his laptop, typing furiously. "I can't believe it. The Wookie has a brain. Right. We need an island. And we need a way to lure the whales to it. But in two hours? How the hell can we find a sick whale and get it to an island in two hours?" Rodney slammed his hand against the hard desk. "Dammit McKay, think! A large incubation center. Lots of power, lots of heat . . ." his eyes widened, and he started tapping furiously. "Get Radek in here, now."

"You got an idea?"

"Radek! Now! Go!" Eyes glued to the screen, he pointed to the door behind him, not checking to see if the big man obeyed. There was no need; he merely felt the imposing presence leave. And he started to smile.


	7. Chapter 7

Teyla had been pacing for quite some time. Elizabeth watched her. The proud posture was held stiffly, and her fingers drummed the railing incessantly. But Elizabeth was determined not to go to her. As a leader, she needed to be able to trust that those in her care would come to her for help. And as a leader as well, Teyla would have to learn to trust that she could ask for it.

It took a good half hour, and eight pages of 'Dr. Elizabeth Weir' carefully handwritten on sheets of printer paper before Teyla entered. "Am I disturbing you?"

Elizabeth smiled, relieved that the wait was over. "Of course not, Teyla. Have a seat."

She didn't, but walked to the side of Elizabeth's desk for a more direct, and informal, approach. "I am . . .conflicted. You must understand that I have this city and your people in my heart, and hold you in the greatest respect."

"But you need to check on your own." Elizabeth nodded. "I understand."

Teyla seemed relieved by the sentiment, but still torn. "I do not wish you to think I am abandoning you."

"Teyla, that is the last thing that would cross my mind where you are concerned. And if we can't stop this, their next target could very well be the mainland."

"Then you agree with my motive?"

"It would be good to prepare your people. But I must warn you; we are on the verge of evacuating some of our people through the gate. If we need to evacuate your people through the stargate, it will have to happen quickly."

What wasn't said was clearly understood. There was no way to get the Athosians from the mainland to the gate in time. Not if it came down to the letter. And bringing them to the station for possible evacuation was out of the question.

Teyla merely nodded. "I must stand with my people. I know you understand this."

"Teyla." Elizabeth gave a sad smile and stood. Teyla raised her chin, not defiantly, but taking in the presence before her. "You have my complete trust and respect. Now go and tend to your people. And be safe."

"Thank you." She gave a small smile and a nod. It was at this moment that Rodney came crashing in.

"Impeccable timing as always, Rodney," Elizabeth said loudly. "We were just finished." Elizabeth returned Teyla's soft nod as she left.

"_What_? No, never mind." He was speaking quickly, and fumbled with the tube of paper in his hand. "How long 'til the bugs arrive?"

"A little over an hour, why? What is that?"

Rodney smiled and spread the large sheet of paper across Elizabeth's desk. "Incubation."

She ran her fingers over the chart, nodding, and looked up. "Okay. I'm lost."

"Yes, look, you see here," Radek burst in and shoved Rodney aside, jabbing at the chart before his forward momentum had stopped. "We use a jumper to rig a force field around an island . . ."

"Wait," Elizabeth cut in, "what island?"

"I found a suitable island for these bugs to inhabit. They need heat and moisture to breed, so we heat the interior, just enough to simulate the temperature and moisture of the inside of a whale, for example."

"Yes, disgusting as that may be," Rodney cut in. "We can use jumper eight, it's out of commission for interplanetary travel, and since we have twelve and thirteen running we can spare this one for a bit."

"But won't maintaining the shield around the island deplete the jumper's energy source?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes," Rodney replied, jabbing his finger toward her pointedly. "Which is why we have to come up with an alternate energy source."

"How do these bugs get on the island if there is a shield covering it?"

"Simple," Rodney said. "The shield won't extend all the way to the ground." He cupped one hand over the other. "We merely cap it, create a sort of greenhouse effect."

"And this energy signature won't be enough to attract the Wraith?"

"If the Wraith are close enough to pick up that energy signature then the bugs will be the least of our worries. Either that or we can just sic them on our enemy. That whole 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' thing."

"Okay. So how do we divert the bugs and get them to the island?"

Rodney grinned. "This is the good part." He paused for dramatic effect, which pleased him, and irritated Weir. "We scoop them up using the wraith technology we recovered from the dart that tried to suck up Lt. Cadman and myself. Radek has been playing with the scoop lately, trying to configure it to jumper technology. After scooping them it'll just be a matter of dumping them in the water near the shore and letting them figure it out."

"And this scoop works?"

"It will." He sounded less certain.

"Elizabeth," Radek pressed, "this will take a lot of preparation and there isn't much time. Rodney must find a suitable alternative power supply, and I still have to . . ."

"Right," she said, as a panicked voice roared over the city's comm, "they've found the main conduit! They're spreading!"

Elizabeth instantly keyed the control room. "Prepare to evacuate nonessential personnel through the gate." She looked at the two men. "Do it. Now."

Rodney raced through the bowels of Atlantis. Three armed guards followed him, guns aimed and ready. Their boots thudded heavily as they ran, sending vibrations through the walls that would be certain to attract the attention of the bugs, but they didn't stop. There wasn't time.

Rodney keyed his radio. "Radek! How's it coming?" The colorful language flowed through his earpiece like honey, and he didn't need to understand it to know what it meant. "That good, huh?"

"Tis like fitting a hammer where a nail should be!"

"Maybe if you stopped complaining and started working . . ." he skidded to a stop in front of a door that wouldn't open.

"Maybe if you would not page me every five minutes . . ."

"Less chatter, more work!" Rodney gritted his teeth as he and the soldiers tried to pry it with their hands. Rodney waved them back and gathered his thoughts. "Radek, I can't get through to the grounding station. No time to get to the other one, ideas?"

"Alternate power source."

"Oh, very clever!"

"ZPM."

"No."

"Just to charge!"

"NO!" Rodney cursed and paced in a rapid circle. He noticed one of the soldiers, he hadn't even bothered to learn their names, point down the hall and take a defensive stance. Gunfire instantly lit the corridor, and Rodney felt himself being manhandled out of the way.

"Rodney?" Radek yelled over his radio.

"Not now!" Rodney back peddled and found himself being pushed down a dark corridor. He slammed into a wall that shifted and disintegrated into hundreds of moving shells.

The soldier with him started firing, shoving Rodney back behind him. The other soldiers were at the other end of the hallway, lit by spits of orange gunfire. Heavy shadows moved around them, and a scream echoed, followed by less fire.

Rodney whipped his head around and tapped his earpiece. "We're pinned down, we need a way out of here! Colonel Sheppard? Anyone?" The remaining soldiers were closing in on him as the bugs advanced. It was then that Rodney noticed the panel in the ceiling above him. He tapped the soldier to his left and pointed up. Before he knew it, he had a foothold and was pushing at the hatch, then pulling the man up with all the strength he could muster as terrified cries assaulted his ears.

"Look out!" The soldier kicked at the opening with his feet, forcing back a large bug that had crawled though after him. Rodney scrambled backwards as the gun was leveled and fired with a deafening sound. He slammed the panel shut, squishing the remains, filling the air with a nasty, organic smell. Below was a faint sound, like chomping, and the metallic sounds of scurrying legs.

Neither man said anything. They turned tail and crawled through the conduit.


	8. Chapter 8

The jumper bay was virtually empty. John had everything prepared inside jumper eight that he could possibly ready, and found himself playing the hated waiting game. He ran down the ramp, boot clanging noisily on the metal. "Where the hell's Radek?"

"Still having trouble configuring," Lt. Bamber said, coiling what was left of the wire that stretched from the jumper to a large mess ten feet away.

"He does realize we have to make two trips to scoop up all these things, right?"

"At least."

John paced for a moment more. "Dammit. We're running out of time," he muttered, pushing past.

"I'm sure he knows that, sir!" the man yelled behind him.

Sheppard exited the bay and ran down the eerily deserted halls. People were being evacuated through the stargate at that moment. He could imagine the long line steadily streaming through the event horizon like a human river. His anxiety grew as he skidded into the lab and didn't see Radek.

What he saw was no less that thirty bugs, chewing the cords. They didn't seem affected by the zaps.

That wasn't good. John turned on his heel and swiped his gun from the holster. He fired at the bugs running toward the labs as he ran backwards, propelling himself into the transporter, leaving a few holes in the door.

Fortunately no one was shot by the last bullet as he flew out two floors above.

John continued to run and tapped his radio. "McKay! You hear me?" He stopped for a moment, unable to hear over his own pounding footsteps. "Rodney! Dammit, do you read!" There was nothing, no cursing, no tirade, not even static.

Again, not good.

He continued his run, trying for Elizabeth and getting garble. He descended the stairs eight and ten at a time by half-sliding along the railing, landing hard on the platform, and rushing to the window.

The bugs were right below him, crawling into the city. They were out of time.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" Rodney asked as he gasped for air.

"Sgt. Amarvian." The soldier pounded at the grate that closed them in. Only the thought of being eaten alive had spurred Rodney through the tight conduits, but now that his adrenaline was ebbing the fear was kicking into high gear.

He wheezed in terror and pressed at the walls just inches from him. "Goddammit, my cat has more strength than you! Get us the fuck out of here!"

"Nothing I'd like more, trust me," Amarvian muttered through gritted teeth as he leaned back and banged his heels against the grating. The sound was deafening, like banging a mallet on sheet metal, but the grate started to give.

"I take back everything I said about your ethnicity." Rodney shifted so he was on his hands and knees directly behind the sergeant. "Now push!"

"I'm working on it!" Sweat dripped from the soldier's skin, and he kicked the grate free with a determined yell and slid out of the wall.

"Thank you!" Rodney exclaimed, right as Amarvian called out, "Dr. McKay, wait . . ."

Rodney slid out and landed in an ungraceful heap on something soft. He was prepared to make his apologies to Amarvian when he noticed the dark man shining his light on him. Rodney looked down, and shoved himself away with a high-pitched yell. "Fuck!"

"Dr. McKay . . ." Amarvian was reaching for him . . .

"Shit! Oh, no . . .nonono . . ." The young eyes that stared back at him held none of the defiance and mirth of that morning. The can was still in his hand, the string broken. His dark hair was matted with blood, his flesh torn from his skull. As Rodney watched, being pulled back by the soldier, several bugs crawled from the nemesis boy's nose and into his gaping mouth.

"Dr. McKay! Let's go! NOW!" Sgt. Amarvian tugged the stricken man along.

Rodney finally found it within himself to run on his own terms.

They hurled around a corner, and were attacked.

Amarvian fell back, screaming, clawing at the bugs that seemed to leap for his throat. Rodney grabbed at him, then pushed him away in revulsion as he saw the hundreds of bugs that suddenly covered him, consuming him; and they were running towards Rodney, clinging to his pants legs as he frantically tried to swat them away, running backwards past the dead boy, trying to leap for the conduit. Hard bodies crunched under his boots as he landed; the floor was suddenly covered with writhing, scurrying bodies, all climbing him.

The whole corridor was crawling.

They were on his arms. He shrieked, batting them away, seeing them fall, seeing them climb back up. One hand went over his nose and mouth, the other desperately waved and shook the bugs off, but it was no use. They covered him; he could feel them on his stomach, his chest, on the back of his neck. He swiped at the wall, clearing a space, and pressed the side of his head against it, blocking passage to his left ear. He covered his right ear with his right hand, his left over his mouth and nose, allowing barely enough space between his fingers to breath. They crawled over his skin, his hands, in his hair, over eyelids screwed tightly shut, down his shirt, and he suddenly thought of another orifice he'd rather not have penetrated. His own hand stifled his screams.

A flash of red reflected against his eyelids. There was an odd screech, a high keening, and he gave his head a quick shake and opened his eyes. A bug instantly crawled over it and again he screamed behind his hand, aware of another flash and more keening as he sank to the floor, his energy spent, his body trembling and his spirit breaking.

The red bursts continued to light the hallway, punctuated by a furious voice coming closer. One flash right before him, blinding him even through closed eyes, and the scurrying sensations increased then disappeared. Moments later a pair of hands were forcing his own down and he fought back, still feeling thousands of crawling legs all over him, knowing the bugs were there, just waiting to enter him. He was held in a firm grip, and the voice that spoke was the last he had ever expected to hear.

"Carson?"

"Aye, it's me, are you all right?"

Rodney braved the small act of opening his eyes. Emergency flares turned the corridor an evil red, casting large shadows of retreating bugs along the walls. "Oh God." He collapsed, falling over to his side onto the floor, with Carson still gripping his wrists tightly. "Shit. Oh shit."

"Shhh, you're okay, come on. We've got to go." He rubbed Rodney's shoulder, then gave it a tight squeeze. "Come on, man, get up! We can't stay here."

There was no way Rodney could move. Every part of him had seized up, abandoned him. He stared at Carson blankly.

"How . . ."

"The Colonel couldn't find you, so I've been looking." Carson leaned over him, touching him, rubbing his arms, using the sensation of human contact to ground him.

"You . . ." Rodney blinked unsteadily, "why?"

Carson took Rodney's face in his hands, desperate to get their lead scientist back from this hell. "Rodney, do you really think I'd leave you behind?"

Rodney shook his head. After a moment he was able to sit up and lean back against the wall. Shock was frozen on his face.

Carson pulled him away from the stability and wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. "Power source. Remember? You need to find a battery."

"Battery . . ."

"Jumper, scoop the bugs, make a utopia, that sort a thing. Ring a bell, maybe?"

Rodney was fighting to focus. Carson could see that, and he kept talking to the stricken man, pulling him back, rerouting his brain from terror to affirmative action.

Rodney's eyes suddenly cleared. "Naquahdah generator."

Carson smiled and nodded. "Right. Now where is the bugger?" And he winced, but Rodney didn't seem to notice the slip.


	9. Chapter 9

"Elizabeth?" It wasn't really a question so much as a warning. John was back in the jumper bay, waiting for someone, anyone, to show. The bugs were right outside, so anyone coming through the door at this point wasn't an option. "Can you hear me?" There had been no response over the comm, and he was hoping, in the back of his mind, that they didn't suddenly change the plans on him and all leave. "Elizabeth, come in!"

"John?" The voice was faint, but there.

He released the breath he'd been holding. "Finally! What's our status?"

"Not good. Still have over thirty percent of the city to evacuate. Some aren't leaving."

"What?" He shook his head; there was no time for dueling heroics. "You heard from Radek?"

"No, I haven't."

"Shit. Rodney?"

"The same. John? Maybe you should . . ."

"No. Look, they'll be here, I'm not leaving yet." Not that he could. The scratching outside was growing louder, like running nails over a chalkboard. It wasn't long until he realized just what the sound was.

They were using their saw-like legs to cut through the door.

"Radek! Why the hell aren't you in the jumper bay?" Rodney gasped. He had slammed right into the smaller man, nearly dropping the generator on his foot.

Radek's eyes widened in shocked relief. "Rodney! Oh thank the heavens! I thought you were," he took in his friend's appearance, "my God, what happened to you?"

"Nothing. You ready?"

"I have to reconfigure the . . ."

"Yes, yes, yes, now let's go, shall we?"

"No! Not that way." Radek grabbed Rodney's arm and spun him. "This way. That way is infested."

"Whole bloody city is infested," Carson said, rounding the corner. "Look, I'm sure the entrance to the jumper bay is blocked by now. How are we getting in?"

Rodney's head snapped around as he thought. "This way." He launched down the hall awkwardly with the two men behind him. Four minutes and four flares later, they were in a transporter.

They materialized in the jumper bay.

John jerked his gun around, and paled with relief when he saw the men coming towards him. It was all he could do not to fall against the open hatch. "What took you so long?"

"Don't ask."

As glad as he was to see the three of them, it was Rodney's eye that he caught, and his stomach clenched at the sight. He backed aside and let them through, pointing to Lt. Bamber. "Get the jumper two prepped. We're going now!" He sealed the hatch behind them and jumped into the pilot's seat. "Elizabeth," he cued, "I have them. Heading out now!"

The voice was still faint, and fearful. "Good luck, John!"

A second clench. "Are you okay?"

"They're here . . ."

"Fuck!" He slammed his hand down on the console and looked up as the roof pin-holed, then spiraled open. "Buckle up people!" Bugs dropped onto the jumper as it rose, thudding against the hull. He couldn't help but think that he shouldn't be hearing that.

The ocean below them was black. Bugs crawled over each other like stepping stones, heading for the city. The horizon was blue, and it gave John hope. "Radek, now would be a good time to use this thing."

"We're good, go, go, go!"

John activated the scoop, and the waters were clear. He checked for Bamber, found the other jumper hovering to his left, and headed out.

The island was only twenty minutes by jumper. It wasn't far enough for his liking, but they were out of time.

He landed a bit more roughly than necessary, and waited for jumper two to land. Then they launched into action.

The back hatch opened. Radek began the process of disengaging the wraith scoop while John and Rodney set up the generator. Carson knelt beside them, listening to Rodney's nervous chatter, watching as he steadily regained his focus. There were small, ugly scratches on his face and neck where the bugs had clawed at him. His arms were a mess. It looked like they had tried getting inside his friend by any means necessary, they were becoming that desperate.

It didn't bode well for the people that remained on Atlantis.

Rodney was working furiously. His hands shook. The third time he dropped his tool, John placed his own hand over Rodney's, forcing him still, forcing him to take that breath that would steady him. Rodney did so, gave a small nod of thanks, and blinked at his work in deep concentration.

"Radek," he said in a voice that sounded more like Rodney should sound, "get your ass over here and hold this damn wire. There. Thank you." He clipped and pinned, and sat back. "Now. Throw the switch."

The switch was actually a tiny lever on the side, hand prepped by Rodney himself. It clicked on.

The mess of equipment inside the jumper began to light up and hum. Rodney, John and Radek bordered the odd-looking contraption and carried it outside as Carson directed them. They sat it forty feet away from the jumper. "How do we activate the shield?" Carson asked.

"Remote," Rodney said simply, and hurried to jumper two.

Radek pulled the scoop from their jumper and followed the men. John pulled him inside and yelled for Lt. Bamber to take off. Radek quickly attached the scoop to the jumper's power systems as the craft rose into the air, then looked at Rodney. They hovered a good hundred meters from the shore and two hundred in the air.

Radek took a deep breath. "Are we ready?"

"Do it," Rodney said. His voice was low, and his eyes still haunted.

"Activating the shield," John said. A pinkish bubble, much like bubblegum in fact, appeared over the island, stopping a good six meters from the ground on all sides.

Radek activated the scoop. A white beam fanned over the water, and the dark bugs materialized in the water, one hundred meters from the shore.

The bugs seemed confused, and stopped. For a moment, John almost felt sorry for them. They bumbled over each other, trying to find their safe place.

There was no time to hang around and see if the plan would work. Atlantis was overrun. They flew back quickly.

There were bugs in the water around the city, but not nearly as many. What was horrifying was the way they were crawling up the towers, hiding the majestic sprawl, covering the iridescence with greasy earthiness. The city was sinister, not magical.

John growled deep in his throat and started scooping every one of those bastards.

Elizabeth was beyond tears. She lay cowered beneath the console, sobbing, kicking at anyone that tried to help her. Several others were in a similar state, unable to believe the threat was gone, that after being completely covered by a nightmare they were set free. The personnel that had been guiding the people through the gate had returned to a gruesome sight and retreated as ordered, shutting the gate down behind them. But unable to sit still and let the city be taken over, they had redialed, were relieved to find they could get through, and prepared to launch a final stand. They had appeared in the gate room to see the white scooping beam, and to hear the terrified cries of the people who had been preparing to die.

Dr. Lind was at Elizabeth's side, trying to cajole her from underneath the counter. It took some time for her to realize the threat was over. With a tear-streaked face, she climbed out, shakily looking at those around her, trying to regain her composure. She settled for leaning on Dr. Lind's shoulder, and started giving orders to scan the city, to contact Colonel Sheppard, and to assess the damages. It was in a small voice, but it was said, and carried out immediately.

"I'll be damned." Radek rose from his seat and leaned over John's shoulder. "It worked."

The island was crawling. The atmosphere inside the bubble was hazy with heat and moisture, and the bugs were scurrying on land as fast as their multiple legs would allow.

"Setting free the second batch," John said in reply, and nodded to Radek. He released the scoop, and more bugs materialized in the water, and instantly started for the island.

"Is that all of them?" Carson asked.

"I hope so."

They watched as the waters lightened below them. "What about the bodies." It was a flat question, asked by Rodney, as though he really didn't want to know the answer.

John considered tact, and went for brutal honesty. "Probably should incinerate them."

"Right." Rodney's face fell, and he walked back to his seat and slumped.

Below them, the process they had inadvertently interrupted, continued.

Epilogue

The nightmares persisted for many of the people of Atlantis. Dr. Kate Heightmeyer had her hands full, as did Teyla, who had managed to avoid most of the carnage when she retreated to the mainland to prepare her people, should the threat arrive on shore. Ronon had suffered enough horrors to fill a lifetime, and this incident was but another subject to keep him awake. Carson dreamed of bodies screaming for him, none of which saw him or even knew he was there.

Elizabeth dreamed of an invisible enemy that she couldn't communicate with. Until she found that the only way they could communicate with her was to enter through her eyes, and mouth, and anus . . .

Every night, John watched his friends disintegrate before his eyes. Carson, Radek, Teyla, Ronon, and Elizabeth, all with him doing nothing more than standing there, watching, firing bullets that popped like fireworks overhead and decorated the carnage at his feet. Rodney's imaginary demise was the hardest to stomach, because looking at his friend's healing wounds during waking hours just brought the dream to life. He wasn't sure which hurt more, that Rodney had such a close call, or that it had to be Carson who saved him.

For Rodney, it was more than being eaten. Upon their return, he had holed himself up in his room and wrapped himself tightly in blankets. He knew John was outside his door, but he didn't respond. He dreamed of total blackness that was so absolute it consumed him in a way that the bugs never could. There was no such thing as light. No hand to reach down and help him out of the abyss.

Over the next few months, the nightmares eased as the scientists managed to track the migratory patterns of the whales, and "introduce" them to a more distant island, one that would serve as a final resting place for the gentle creatures, and one that the bugs could find and use to keep life going, while avoiding the life that already thrived.

Or tried to.


End file.
